kbits’ ilort-jFcrlta. 
M A RIAN. 
nr ANX1E HERBERT. 
[The following song, by an old Rural contribntor, 
is now being sung by JAMES G. CLARK at his con¬ 
certs, and is soon to be published, with music, by 
this Poet Composer.— Ens, Rural.} 
Wandering over the blossoming highlands, 
Treading the shores of an infinite sea, 
Wreathing the lilies that grow by the islands, 
There my lost darling is waiting for Coe: 
Never a shadow shall fall on her dreaming. 
Never a wall through her melody sighs. 
Never a woo with its passionate sociuing. 
Never a tear in her beautiful eyes. 
Marian*. Marian*, sorrow is clinging 
Round my lone heart like the shadows of even; 
Teach me the song that, the angels are singing. 
Smile on my soul from flic gateway of heaven. 
Up where the pi-ivlx nC the heavenly portal 
Crown tim still waters so golrtonly sweet, 
Wilt thou not wreath me a garland immortal, 
Like to the lilies that grow at thy feet ? 
Walt for me there by the Beautiful River, 
Star of my son! on life’s tremulous sea,— 
Wait till (he breezes of IOdnn shall quiver. 
Bearing me over the River to thee i 
Marian, Marian, Inup-notesare singing 
Softly and sweet through the shadows of even; 
Teach me the song that the angels are singing. 
Welcome ine homo to the Gateway of lleaven. 
WOMEN AS HELPMEETS. 
“ Wliat HI a ken a Woman Truly a Help¬ 
meet to Her Husband.” 
IJY MARY A. E. WAGER. 
It may at the outset he questioned whether 
this is a subject a woman can competently 
discuss. True, she can express her view as 
to what a husband needs in a wife, hut it is 
far morn reasonable to suppose a man would 
be much better authority. But as a woman 
lias established a precedent in this matter, it 
gives all other women an excuse to have 
“ their say” about it. 
The iuexhaustivc differences among men, 
the variety of their pursuits, their various 
and varying needs, at once demaud an in¬ 
finite range of specialties, that would neces¬ 
sitate endless discussion. 
I believe the first essential toward const i- 
tiiting a woman a helpmeet to her husband 
is a thorough understanding and apprecia¬ 
tion of his nature. A wife may, by her in¬ 
genuity, her skill, or industry, increase their 
annual income to a generous extent, and yet 
be no, helpmeet to her husband in the very 
sense in which he most needs help. And wc 
are at this moment reminded of one of our 
finest American orators, a man whose life 
lias been one unflinching battle against 
wrong, who said that the greatest strength 
of his life, indeed, all that he had accom¬ 
plished of worthiness, was due to his wife, 
and his wife was, and had been for years, a 
bed-ridden invalid. She could earn nothing. 
She could only be eared for. But she lived 
in her husband's heart, and so enriched, 
strengthened anil aided him as no external 
aid could possibly have done. 
Admitting the idea of pay or comparative 
earning* into the marriage relation, at once 
creates a division that is repugnant, if not 
absolutely immoral. The husband and wife 
should he one in a financial, sense. What is 
the one’s is the other’s. In marrying, they 
give themselves to each other, and the volun- 
t try surrender o f self ought certainly to rank 
higher in valuation than anything that is 
likely to follow. 
Marriage, viewed as a business relation, or 
as a more economical or successful way of 
accumulation, is at once desecrated with 
selfishness. God created woman because lie 
saw it was not good that the man Tie had 
made should be left to live alone. This in¬ 
herent, natural and universal want, and ab¬ 
solute need of a woman that every human 
man realizes and feels, is far from being inti¬ 
mately connected with the active, visible 
help she is to be to him. Such help no man 
disdains, if it is a natural, secondary result. 
But the great, underlying, permeating needed 
help a man wants from his wife, comes to him 
through her sympathies, her moral power 
and her affections. 
A kiss made Benjamin West a painter. 
That was the help he needed. The English 
commoner who threw his mantle of honor 
on his wife’s shoulders, because it rightfully 
belonged to her, received from her the help he 
most needed, and which no one for a mo¬ 
ment supposes was the result of her being 
a superlative housekeeper, or a shrewd 
financier. 
No woman who loves her husband with 
heart, mind and sense, can remain an insipid, 
helpless Doha. Neither will she. go to the 
other extreme, and he so helpful, and strong, 
and profitable, and careful, that her husband 
values her as he would an excellent foreman 
in his business operations. 
I know a man—and a generous, high- 
toned, manly fellow lie is—whose wife is an 
embodiment of skill and energy. She ac¬ 
complishes more of real, actual profit to 
'heir mutual sustenance than any man could 
possibly do. She is perpectly reliable in a 
business sense. But she almost utterly fails 
in the very thing be most needs. He grows 
old at heart, meager, unsympathizing and 
commonplace. He gives a sigh in memory 
of the courtship days, when one woman’s 
smile was reward enough for any sacrifice, 
the assurance of her love the basis of bis 
ambition, and her abode in his heart the 
one satisfying and compensating thing in 
existence. 
The most incontrovertible proof of the 
humanity or human nature of Jesus was 
exemplified in his diverse appreciation of 
Martha and Mary. And I think even a 
woman, can see how the help Mary gave 
her -Lord was' so infinitely more than any 
of Martha's accomplishments could possi¬ 
bly lx*. 
The most needed and essential help a 
woman can give to her husband is to be to 
him jus/ what no other human belay can be. 
To (ill the vacancy God knew needed filling 
when ITe paid it, was not good for man to be 
alone. She most truly helps him when she 
does him the most good ; when she ennobles 
him by her pure, womanly unselfishness; 
when site enriches and enlarges his heart by 
sympathetic development; when she makes 
herself a necessity to him by being a part of 
him; in brief, belay just that to him which he, 
in the noble and manly ardor of their be¬ 
trothal day, bcU&oed and fell she would be. 
It is the nature of man to protect and care 
for. It is •woman’s nature to cared for. 
In this province that which is best and no¬ 
blest hi man. Is developed. And in being cared 
for, woman finds an atmospheric freedom in 
which she alone can reach her highest and 
divinest estate. This is neither fashionable 
“cant” nor weak-minded “twaddle,” if I 
may he allowed the inelegnncy of such an 
expression. I am strong-minded through 
and through, earn my own living, mid am 
“capable” of doing anything from darning 
a sock beautifully to appreciating the sweet 
and gracious influences of a noble woman 
and the splendid and precious qualities of an 
honest man. 
The men whom T know have not married 
for the sake of being “ envied,” nor simply 
to have some one love and flatter them. 
They knew a woman was needed for their 
present nml future salvation. They fully 
understood that women were human beings, 
but more divine than they, with ambitious 
and aspirations, and studying their natures 
With an earnestness only worthy of so high 
an endeavor, learned how to satisfy those 
hopes and powers, and receive in compensa¬ 
tion that most precious thing a man can 
know—a wife’s unmeasured love. 
What external or pecuniary aid or help a 
wife should be to her husband, must be val¬ 
ued only in proportion as it, administers to 
the best, happiness of both. For I hold Unit 
in all true marriages that, is no good which 
benefits one and not the other. Any mar¬ 
riage that yields freedom to the one and 
entails burdens upon the other is no mar¬ 
riage at all, but a hideous, horrid bondage, 
the sooner broken I lie better. But half the 
men and women who marry, however, de¬ 
serve but little better fruition for their wick¬ 
ed, unholy and sacrilegious assumption of 
an estate for which neither God nor nature 
intended them. 
-- 
MUTUAL REGARD. 
Women would be better and happier if 
men loved them better and were more true 
to them. If men would strive as much to 
make home happy as they do to seek happi¬ 
ness elsewhere, the world would be better. 
Hours do come when men admit the power, 
the worth of woman. Not in sunshine so 
much as In shade and storm. When en¬ 
grossed with business and rolling on the sea 
of success we too often forget the ones with¬ 
out whom life would be a blank, and only 
fly to the havens and shelters—the love and 
gentle caresses of woman—when the waves 
are high and to remain abroad is to perish. 
-- 
GOSSIPY PARAGRAPHS. 
A gentleman having lately been called 
on to subscribe to a course of lectures, de¬ 
clined ; “ because,” said lie, “ mv wife gives 
me a lecture every night for nothing.” 
Fanny Fern says:—' 1 If one-half of the 
girls knew the previous lives of the men they 
marry the list of old maids would he wonder¬ 
fully increased.” Whereupon the Boston Post 
asks:—“ If the men knew what their future 
lives were to be would’nt it increase the list 
of old maids still further?” 
A California Chinaman having been 
shown by his mistress how to make a pud¬ 
ding containing three eggs, but having seen 
her throw one bad egg away, continued for 
months after, whenever he made the pudding, 
to use four eggs regularly, breaking, examin¬ 
ing and throwing one away, as lie had seen 
her do. 
The oldest woman in Ireland died last 
week at Catseway. Her name was Mary 
Lovett, alias Harnett, and Her age one hun¬ 
dred and eight. She retained all her facul¬ 
ties up to a yery recent period. Her memory 
was vigorous and her descriptive narrative 
of the Irish ebellion of ’98 was very strik¬ 
ing,— Kerry Post. 
O (Tt, v The P oem on lke “ Mother of Mothers” is 
l! SllYtrft mtttl cheerfully worded, and is yet like “The 
JLIJUUE alJlClUiUn* Knoll,” very sad. What Silvia Prli.ico 
-b— —_ L _ - - calls “ the eternal mutability of Time,” is the 
BY and BY one thought speaking lu it. A rural bomo- 
__. * stead is pictured ns slowly falling into decay. 
Bv-Axn-BY! wo any it softly, One by one the bricks drop from t he orchard 
Thinking of a tonJor iiupe wall; year by year the apple tree stems 
Whore so ttiany longings grope. “lean lower aside; uud shock by shoe It 
„ ,. , the water wears away its banks. But the 
In H time that u to come. “ Mother of Mothers,” now sleeping under 
Ami the foara that now defeat us >•_ an 0 ld loaning Mono in the church-yard, bespread 
Then shall nil bo stricken dumb! With the scales of gray lleben above a green bed, 
* * ♦ * * * * 
By-and-by ! Tho mournful sorrows, —found the wall sauna, 
Clouding o’er our aky to-day, A net irjtple trees trim, 
Shall be gone In glad to-morrows, And plan'll an the brim 
Shall be banished quite away ! That is wash'll from the ground." 
By-and-by ! Wo say It gently, Like 0UV 0WH White - haired wrinkled 
Looking on our silent dead; trembling grandmothers, when tho glory ot 
And we do not think of earth-life, VOllth WHS tUoil’S 
But of heaven's sweet life instead ! * ’ 
“ She walk'd In her time of the comellest mould ; 
By-and-by! oh, say it softly. and if only the a ncient dust could rise and 
**•* '«•»! ® »».i i« y *. 
Waiting for us over there! dead Past would upstart to life I How she 
[Once a Month. could rekindle the extinguished hearth-tires, 
*"*"* and what tales she might tell of “ her old 
BARNES’ RURAL POEMS. fellow-folk,” 
“That hero havo liv’d on 
BY ELIZA WOODRUFF. In j <)y iu WO e, 
- From sprightly to slow, 
The advent of a genuine poet, is still an And from blooming to wan. 
, .. • . . r !i ..What maid was bolov’d, or what woman was bride, 
event ot some interest. In these hui lying Who (lro0 , lM lu Ull , u . Kr iof.or upstmighton’d with 
days, genius, or at least talent, partakes of pride, 
a certain evanescent and fleeting spirit. * V * , . * 
‘ Quickly to tllC might bo written Oil tile Who knelt, up to thatch tho round rick’s peaked 
title-page of many valuable popular hooks. height, 
Still, unaffected love for nature, wealed m or what haymaker quick, 
an appropriate manner, will give lasting Who play’d tU6 best trick, 
fame. There is no veneering, no false gloss, Or who sang the best song. ’ 
no thin plating about this “ work.” For the We know ol no other poet who makes 
perfect expression of love, or of any other such frequent and diverse uses ol the winds 
emotion, is always laborious. Goldsmith’s ™ William Barnes. They rustle and 
charming descriptions of natural scenery roftr, and sing through the Blind looms, 
are toilsomely finished; Milton’s occn- Every wind has its individuality Dreary 
Bional pictures of rural life are like those so winds on “waterless heights; whispering 
slowly wrought in mosaic work,-every winds in echoing dells; whizzing winds in 
word is fitted to its neighbor like the va- the tops of pines; and, above all, winds ol 
riously colored stones and gems of the the night, which cause things to nod, sway 
mechanical artist. :in ' 1 TOck - w>n»tlines !l delightsome and 
WIlham Barnes, the Somersetshire poet, ofllimes in an altogether ghostly and fear- 
lias his own way of polishing and condcns- suggesting way. Almost every feature ol 
ing—a method most, personal and peculiar, 'he rural landscape is described. Nothing 
Seemiuglv unwilling to undertake co.npo- is too minute for notice: at mossy Pentmlge, 
sitions of more than a page or two iu where sunlight bathes a rustic mill; m the 
length, he has written some of the most ^1’l’ock, where shifting moonbeams silver 
exquisitely finished lines of scenic poetry in nil sleeping tilings; along the Wide, pleasant 
the language. Tho very first line iu the COUHtry-sido; out in tho green hek s am >y 
book is a sample : Hie sedgc-linod brooks, the poet lingers and 
“ The Inng-llghteil thiys begin to shrink. sings his 1 ejojcillg songs , 
Wc realize at once that it is autumn-tho “ Wherotby.no <*" turfy banks may grow 
, ,, ..... Or mallows by tho liinoslilo lodgo. 
BY-AND-BY. 
Br-AN T n-BV ! Wo say it softly, 
Thinking of a tomlor hope 
Stirring always in our hoaoms, 
Where so many longings grope. 
By-anil-by! Oh, lovo shall greet us, 
In a time that I* to come. 
Amt the fears that now defeat us 
Then shall all bo stricken dumb ! 
By-and-by I Tho mournful sorrows, 
Clouding o’er our sky to-day, 
Shall bo gone In glad to-morrows, 
Shall be banished quite away! 
By-and-by ! Wo say It gently, 
Looking on our silent dead; 
And we do not think of earth-life. 
But of heaven’s sweet life instead ! 
By-and-by ! Oh, say It softly, 
Thinking not ol' earth and care, 
But the by-aild-bv ol' heaven, 
Waiting for us over there! 
[Once a Month. 
-- 
BARNES’ RURAL POEMS. 
BY ELIZA WOODRUFF. 
The advent of a genuine poet is still an 
event of some interest. In these hurrying 
days, genius, or at least talent, partakes of 
a certain evanescent and fleeting spirit. 
“ Quickly to die” might be written on the 
title-page of many valuable popular books. 
Still, unaffected love for nature, worded in 
an appropriate manner, will give lasting 
fame. There is no veneering, no false gloss, 
no thin plating about this “ work.” For the 
perfect expression of love, or of any other 
emotion, is always laborious. Goldsmith's 
charming descriptions of natural scenery 
are toilsomely finished; Milton’s occa¬ 
sional pictures of rural life are like those so 
slowly wrought iu mosaic work,— every 
word is fitted to its neighbor like the va¬ 
riously colored atones and gems of the 
mechanical artist. 
William Barnes, the Somersetshire poet, 
has his own way of polishing and condens¬ 
ing— a method most personal and peculiar. 
Seetniugly unwilling to undertake compo¬ 
sitions of more than a page or two in 
length, lie has written some of the most 
exquisitely finished lines of scenic poetry in 
opening lino holds, as this yen’s hyacinth 
bulb holds next year's lloWTT^ciid plant, the 
germ, perfect and entire, of the poem. The 
pale blossoms thinly flecking the fast fading 
mead, tho yellow-tanned hay-ricks, the silent 
sky, bereft of birds, the sportsmen, the “ rus¬ 
set houghed trees,” and tho sunny, hazy 
atmosphere, glide into the picture as its neces¬ 
sary details. The swift description of sultry 
mid summer days, which 
"•-slowly riui 
Through noons of shrunken ahadoM," 
in tiie poem entitled “ When we were Young 
Together,” is in Lhe same vivid and suggest¬ 
ive style; several subtile comparisons of joy 
breaking in upon sorrow, with day, darkness, 
and time, are also of this curiously condensed, 
and alive stamp. 
In the edition of Mr. Barnes’ poems issued 
in this country, the Somersetshire dialect in 
which they were originally written is drop¬ 
ped, and the volume is rendered in good 
English. Some of the poems lose thereby in 
a pleasing, quaint plcluresquenesa, but all 
gain in intelligibleness. The provincialisms 
of the English lower classes arc generally 
obscure and annoying to an American reader. 
To one sincerely attached to country life, 
the description of tho home at Meldon, “ By 
the Knoll,” is, perhaps, as pleasing as any of 
these rural poems. It gives us some charm¬ 
ing glimpses of an English landscape, an 
English farm-house and an English farmer. 
There, by the knoll, his fathers all slept; 
or where! the POPpy'H seartut crow a 
May nod by clovor, dusky rod, 
Or when! tho field is ruddy brown, 
By brooks, with -dudlow-wubVod bed.’’ 
Mountview Cottage, N. V'. 
-- 
SLURS UPON WOMEN. 
The American Odd Fellow has the follow¬ 
ing very true reflections: 
Of all the evils prevalent among young 
men, we know of none more blighting in its 
moral effects than to speak slightingly of the 
virtue of women. Nor is there anything in 
which young men are so thoroughly mista¬ 
ken, as the low estimate they form Of the in¬ 
tegrity of women—not of their own mothers 
and sisters, but of others, who, they forget, 
are somebody clse’s mothers and sisters. As 
a rule, no person who surrenders to this de¬ 
basing habit is to be trusted with any enter¬ 
prise requiring integrity of character. Plain 
words should bo spoken on this point, for 
the evil is a general one, and deep-rooted. 
If young men are sometimes thrown into the 
society of thoughtless or lewd women, they 
have no more right t o measure all other wo¬ 
men by what they see of these, than they 
would have to estimate the character of hon¬ 
est and respectable citizens by the develop¬ 
ments of crime hi our Police Courts. Let 
oar young men remember that their chlct 
happiness in life depends upon their utter 
faith in women. No worldly wisdom, no 
there they had left him the land which, their misanthropic philosophy, no generalization 
toil had made fruitful; or, as the owner can cover or weaken this fundamental truth. 
says;— It stands like the record of God itself—for it 
“-There ttiey have left mo a living H nothing ICSS than this—lllld should put till 
in lana, whore in summer, everlasting seal upon lips that are wont to 
My hay wither’d «ruy, awaits hauling, ’ ® * 1 
* * * * * * * speak slightingly of women. 
toil had made fruitful; or, as the owner 
says ;— 
“-There they have left rue a living 
in land, where In summer, 
My liay wither’d gray, awaits hauling, 
* * 4 ¥ 4*4 
And there, among light shining grass-blades, 
and bent grass in autumn. 
My cows may all lie near the waters SANDWICHES, 
that creep by tho knoll. - 
,, „ Wilted—T he last rose of summer. 
And up on the slope ot the hillocks, 
by white-rinded ash-trees, When is a cat like a teapot ? When you’re 
Are ledges of grass and of thyme-beds, . . , 
with sheep, by the knoll. leasm it. 
If love is blind, how can there he any 
And down on the west of my house , , .. . . , 
is a rookery, rocking love at first sight. 
„ 1,1 tre f that ward oir the winds: ^ ^ Isn’t it queer that contractors should he 
— there i have windowsontlooking engaged to widen streets? 
, . .. *! uisct ’ . , A good suggestion is like a crying baby 
And others that face the fresh morning’s . , , . , 
first peep, by the knoll.’’ at a concert — it ought to he carried out. 
Tlic noble love of the Englishman for his He who has not forgiven ail enemy has 
ancestral home breathes from the owner’s never yet lasted one of the enjoyments of 
heart as lie concludes: life. 
“—though there Is no place hut heaven “ WllAT a little child!” said a friend. 
And I, like my follows in trial! Ah, replied Ilood, his patents ne\ei 
may weep by tho knoll. made much of him.” 
Still, while I fulfill, like a hiroiincr. “ I came near selling my boots the other 
the day of my labor, daysaid Scuttle to a friend. “ IIow so?” 
to keep by the knou.” *' Well, I had them hall-soled. 
“Wiiat a little child!” said a friend. 
“ Ah,” replied Ilood, “ his parents never 
made much of him.” 
“ I came near selling my boots the other 
day,” said Scuttle to a friend. “ IIow so?” 
. '■ Well, I had them half-soled.” 
i&ablwfl) ii cubing. 
r ! <£) 
A THANKSGIVING. 
BY A. A. IIOriilNH. 
O'ER all November's dreariness. 
And all llie waning year’s complaint, 
Through smoky base of summer days 
That fill tho skies with sweet surprlsa 
When earth in splendid vesture lies, 
There comes a peace my soul to bless, 
And culm me, though 1 inly faint. 
It steals upon me like u dream,— 
A tender dream, as softly kind 
As ever blesl a soul ill rest; 
And one by one each morning sun 
Is kissing me, us it Ims done 
With magic In its golden beam 
Since Youth Its garlands for mo twined. 
I live again each morning o'er, 
I breathe again each morning's air,— 
Each fancy sweet again repeat; 
Each gladsome thrill at dreaming’s will 
Asserts that It has power still; 
And Joys that long have gone before 
Another yield of pleasure bear. 
Where I hail sting a psalm of praise. 
Again the praiHoful psalm I sing; 
Where sad 1 sighed, or moaning cried, 
I sigh no more with sadness sore, 
But know the fruil that sorrow boro 
Is blessing all my brief to-days. 
And so a peal or joy I ring ! 
As one by one tho days go by, 
1 see my Lord's dear presence near; 
His touch 1 feel In woe uud weal, 
And day by day He leads my way. 
From morning till tho evening gray; 
And gladly thankful then urn 1 
To hear His voice of holy cheer. 
I bless Thee. O thou righteous Uon! 
That yesterdays Thou gavost mo! 
That they were mine, and I was Thine I 
And Thee I bless iu thankfulness 
For the to-duy that I possess : 
And when the way at life 1’vo trod 
May 1 the past recall with Thee! 
--44-*- 
CHASTITY OF SOUL. 
Ciiasteness of soul in our relations to 
Christ is too little prized, too feebly longed 
itllcr. IIow many and deep arc the stains 
upon our bridal robes that should be so 
white and clean I Conformity to the world, 
following after its fashions atul aihuscmcnts, 
Seeking its filthy lucre, groveling for its 
honors, pampering of self, shrinking from 
the cross, putting human methods and ob¬ 
servances and dependencies proudly in place 
of Christ, indulging in fears and doubts in¬ 
stead of taking Him simply at his word — it 
is in such ways that our minds, through the 
suhtility of the serpent, are beguiled and 
corrupted from the simplicity that is in 
Christ. 
And what soul brdhthes heavenward a 
perpetual prayer for this el uist.cn css of spirit? 
Who is filled with inexpressible longings for 
this great gift which only’the Infinite Spirit, 
whose name is lloly, can bestow on fallen 
men? Who sees and feels that tho only 
right view of evil is that which shrinks 
from It as a deadly pollution and abomina¬ 
tion ; which holds no parley with it; which is 
jealous of its least approaches? Who echoes 
the beatitude of the Saviour as containing 
the sum of all his hopes,—“ Blessed arc the 
pure in heart, for they shall see God ?’’ 
--• 
CHRISTIANITY. 
Infidels should never talk of our giving 
up Christianity till the}- can propose some¬ 
thing superior. Lord Chesterfield’s answer, 
therefore, to an infidel lady, was very just. 
When at Brussels, he was invited by Voltaire 
to sup with him and Madame C. The con¬ 
versation happened to turn upon the affairs 
of England. “ l think, my lord,” said Mad¬ 
ame 0., “ that the Parliament of England 
consists of five or six hundred of the best in¬ 
formed and most sensible men in tho king¬ 
dom.” “ True, mudame, they are generally 
supposed to be so.” “ What, then, my lord, 
etui be the reason they tolerate so great an 
absurdity as the Christian Religion?” “I 
suppose, madnme,” replied his lordship, “ it 
is because they have not been able to estab¬ 
lish anything better in its stead; when they 
can, I do not doubt but that iu their wisdom 
they will readily adopt it.” 
—-♦♦♦---- 
Conscience. —Conscience is God within 
us. It is man’s best friend, or his dreadful 
enemy; it haunts a man everywhere. He 
has no power to resist it, and he lies perpetu¬ 
ally at its mercy. It is a flame kindled in 
his soul, which inwardly torments and con¬ 
sumes him. It is a viper which twines it¬ 
self about his heart and stings him in the 
tendcrest places. It is a hungry vulture, a 
never-dying worm, which secretly preys 
upon his vitals, and fills him with agony 
and dismay. But where conscience is 
obeyed, it is a friend indeed — a friend at 
home — an inward, intimate, truly bosom 
friend. It never deserts us, even in the 
greatest extremity. 
---- 
A Christian should never plead spirit¬ 
uality for being a sloven. If he he a shoe 
cleaner, he should bo the best in the parish. 
-- 
A word of kind ness is seldom spoken in 
vain. It is a seed which, even when dropped 
iur rhanoe. sDrines un a flower 
